Ironic
by Ms Kitty Black
Summary: Harry sits alone in Grimmauld Place, his only companions? A bottle of Firewhiskey and Kreature.


AN - Yeah I am actually alive! Sorry about the very long time since the story posts or updates. I was just surfing the internet and I found this quote and had to right this. I need to get back into the swing of writing again before I continue with the hatchling. So here we are just a short little one shot :) I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it, any feedback would be lovely :) Sadly I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money of off this (but it sure would help with my student debt) see you lovely's later :)

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Harry rested his forehead on the pitted wooden table of 12 Grimmauld Place, a bottle of Firewhiskey and a tumbler next to his head. Harry's hand was firmly clasped around the bottle, ignoring the tumbler entirely. Raising his head slowly, just high enough to be able to take a swig from the half empty bottle Harry took a deep breath – relishing I the burn – he released the breath he had been holding before slowly returning his forehead to the hard surface.

Harry continued this for many hours to follow allowing his mind to wander in an alcohol induced haze. It had been 7 weeks. 7 whole weeks since the Battle. After the battle had finished and the bodies were buried Harry had been swamped. Authors wanting to write his biography. Reporters wanting interviews. Politicians wanting to be his friends. Women wanting to be a conquest.

Merlin the whole think of it made his head spin, conquest? Biographies? Interviews? He had lost everyone. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Fred, Remus, Tonks. Even Snape the grumpy bastard. The list continued on but it was those names that made his breath hitch in agony by even mentioning them. The Weasley's had not made an appearance since Fred's funeral, locking themselves in the house. He had tried on his sober days to get in contact with Ron and Ginny but it hadn't worked. Hermione had just wanted to get away from it all, so she joined her parents in Australia, choosing to live her life as a muggle.

So that left Harry here. Moving only to find a new bottle of booze.

A hoot from the other end of the table had Harry gingerly turning his head and cracking one eye open just enough to take in the blurry outline of an owl.

"Kre…" Harry stopped to take a swig of Firewhiskey, hoping to sooth his parched throat, "Kreacher. The owl please."

A small pop had Harry jerking back violently, "Damn it Kreacher! Apparate quietly will you?" Harry grumbled.

Kreacher took the letter from the owl placing it on the breakfast tray next to the hangover cure and placed it gently next his master. "Master Harry, the letter, potion and breakfast."

Harry murmured a quiet "Thank you." Before Harry grabbed the potion, downed it and made a start on his breakfast, occasionally taking a swig of Firewhiskey to wash it down.

Remembering the letter Harry summoned it toward him and broke the seal. Opening the letter Harry began reading.

 _Dear Mr Potter,_

 _I am delighted to inform you that due to your heroic actions against the Dark Lord Voldemort and the resistance against the Death Eater forces the Minister of Magic is awarding you The Order of Merlin, 1_ _st_ _Class._

 _The award ceremony will take place in the Ministry Atrium in three weeks' time on the 5_ _th_ _of July, commencing at 6:30pm. Dinner will begin at 7:30pm, you will be seated next to the Minister at the high table. The evening will be followed by music and dancing._

 _We would be delighted to expect your owl confirming your attendance by no later than Friday the 29_ _th_ _of May._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Marlena Starburke,  
Personal Assistant to Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic_

Well that was new. It was ironic really. That his main goal in life was to kill Voldemort and if on the off chance that he actually survived he wanted to get married and start a family. Not like that was going to happen. He and Ginny were done, neither of them in any state to have any kind of relationship.

And the rest of the Weasleys weren't there. Fuck it. He wasn't going. Putting the letter down, Harry waved his wand and muttered a quiet 'incendio' and Harry let his anger flame as the letter was reduced to ash.

It was ironic really, the man who hates the world, is the most loved by it.

* * *

"It ironic really, the man who hates the world, is the most loved by it." – Anna Todd


End file.
